Falling
by moonlitelm
Summary: Eric and Kyle mean more to eachother than they'll ever know...


Lalala. Okay, again this is for Deanna. She explained a dream that happened, and I decided to develop on it and make a very lengthy one shot fan fiction for her. I wanted to add detail, so she could always have the fic close to her. That way she can remember the dream – not exactly how it happened, but close enough. I do hope she enjoys this 3 For you, vixums.

A

_Having a lawyer for a father fucking sucks_ Kyle thought, as he backed towards the railing behind him. He stared with horrified eyes at the man in front of him. The guy was dressed all in black, the only color on him the silver of the knife in his hand. _He's going to kill me _Kyle realised, panic and bile rising in his throat, threatening to smother him.

Kyle had had people threaten him before. It came with the territory. He'd had fucking _eggs_ thrown at him for Christ's sake. But this was ridiculous. This was insane. This was...He didn't know what it was. It was just fucked up. His heart felt like ice in his chest when the man growled "Get in the van."

He shook his head, eyes darting to the dark green van parked halfway on the curb. Another person had flung open the back doors, and he could clearly see ropes in the back. Suddenly, the man lunged.

The knife was at his side, didn't get anywhere near Kyle. The boy leaned back in an effort to dodge, his lower back hitting something solid and hard. A fist bounced off his chest, attempting to grab him, and then Kyle felt himself falling. He stared helplessly at the man leaning over the bridge, unable to hear his thoughts over the rush of wind in his ears.

He heard screaming, and realised that it was his own voice. He smacked harshly into the water, creating a loud slapping noise. Cold filled his body, and then everything went black.

A

Cartman watched as something fell from the bridge. The bundle of flailing whatever looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't place where he had seen it before...Realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, and suddenly his jacket was flying off to the side.

His shoes were kicked out of the way as he ran, hopping over the slippery beach rocks like he had been born to do so. The hefty male had never moved so fast in his life. Without thinking, he leapt into the water. The cold didn't faze him as he swam towards a floating, soggy figure in the water. The orange coat was unmistakable now that he was closer – besides, who else but the Jew would wear such a tacky color?

His arms, strengthened from three years of hockey, wrapped around the slim frame of his friendemy. His powerful legs kicked, and finally, finally, he made it to the shore. He dragged the water logged Jew onto dry land, chest heaving as he panted. A chill was starting to set in, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins pushed it away for the time being. He cursed under his breath, leaning over to make sure the tiny human before him was breathing.

He was.

But just barely.

Cartman leapt to his feet, racing back towards his jacket. His fingers quickly punched in 9-1-1. He explained the situation to the lady on the phone, calling her a stupid whore more than once. Finally, when she told him they'd be there any second, he hung up. Exhaustion was creeping up on him.

He crawled back to the Jew, coat and shoes clutched tightly in his hands. As he was about four feet away from the boy, two distinct voices reached his ears.

_SHIT!_ He screamed mentally, eyes frantically darting around. That perverted "bow-chicka-wow-wow" was Kenny's. He'd know it anywhere. And the easy laughter couldn't belong to anyone other than Stan Marsh, the Jewfag's super-faggy-best-butt-buddy.

Cartman took one last look at his unconscious friendemy before running off to the bushes. His back slammed against a tree, just as Kenny and Stan breached the beach. He listened to their frantic voices dialing 9-1-1, before slowly tip toeing away. He knew Kyle was in safe hands.

A

That night he lay tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep. What few moments he got were filled with nightmares of loneliness, and an empty, longing feeling. He woke drenched in sweat, tears on his cheeks. He wiped them away, rolling over and facing the wall, trying to pretend that he didn't care.

A

Cartman went to school looking like shit. He needed _at least_ eight hours of sleep a night. He had gotten maybe half of one the night before. He had bags under his eyes, and not even the energy to cuss at Butters.

Worry gnawed at his gut, but he told himself it was hunger. He didn't care about the Jew, and it wasn't like he could ask how he was. That would indicate he had been there. The others were probably already suspicious – he knew two ambulances had shown up on scene.

He tugged at the neatly pressed collar of his shirt. His mother had set up a job interview for him after school – it was due to Sheila's latest tirade. She said they all needed to work to learn how to be responsible adults. _Like she's one to fucking talk. Look at what just happened to her son! _He thought angrily, eyes darkening with his mood.

"Dude."

Cartman turned his head slowly in the direction of that voice. He tugged the collar of his shirt again, this time out of nervousness. "Kenneh." He said snootily, cocking a challenging eyebrow.

"Dude, he's gonna be okay."

Relief washed over Cartman, though it didn't show on his face. He decided to play stupid. "Whose gonna be okay Kenneh?"

"Don't even pull that shit." Kenny rolled his eyes, plucking the cigarette out from behind his ear. It was tucked into his mouth, though he didn't light it – they were, after all, inside the school. "I know you were there dude. Stan was too busy shitting a brick, but I saw your coat from behind the tree."

Cartman's face flooded with heat. He told himself it was anger, and not embarrassment.

"What? Not like you're the smallest person around fatass." Kenny's eyes softened as he watched his long time 'friend'. "Seriously. He's okay. He swallowed a lot of water, but you got him out in time dude." His hand touched Cartman's arm, reassuring him that what he did was the right thing.

Cartman stuttered idiotically for a moment, scrambling for an excuse for his actions. Unable to find one, he stumbled to the bathroom where he locked himself in a stall and cried for the second time in twenty four hours.

A

Walking into the cafeteria, Cartman's eyes landed on the empty spot that was usually holding Kyle's scrawny ass. A wave of emotions flowed over him, and he felt his legs giving out. Someone – Wendy, perhaps – shouted, and then everything was silent.

A

"-le? Kyle?"

Kyle blinked his eyes a few times, trying to get the blurriness to go away. He felt his glasses being slid onto his face, and purred with relief, slumping back into the pillows. "Stan?" He croaked, cringing at how shitty he sounded.

"Yeah buddy. It's me. You okay?" He felt a hand slide onto his forehead, forcing the thick red curls away. His super best friend was staring down at him with concerned eyes.

A memory curled its way up Kyle's spine, taking residence in the front of his brain. "Where's Cartman?" He asked bluntly.

Stan's eyes flashed darkly. "Did he do this to you?"

"Where is he?" Kyle asked again, refusing to answer the question.

"In the room down the hall. He flopped over at lunch and Mr Mackey had him brought here." Kenny's voice sang from the chair beside Kyle's bed. He stood up and leaned over Kyle, flashing a small glass pot full of flowers in the Jew's face. "Got these for you."

"Which room?" Kyle was pushing himself up tugging the IV out of his arm. _Thank God for Insulin_ he thought to himself, a part of him sickly pleased with how Stan squirmed in discomfort.

"203" Kenny said, giving his friend a knowing smile.

Kyle swung his legs over the edge of the bed, making his way into the hall.

A

When the doctor did his rounds an hour later, he found the Broflovski boy in the Cartman boy's bed. The smaller of the two, had Eric's head resting on his chest, fingers stroking his hair even as they both slept.

A

THE END!!


End file.
